


A Blue Expanse of Sky

by snapeslittleblackbuttons



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drama, F/M, Fluff, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-28
Updated: 2017-02-28
Packaged: 2018-09-27 10:19:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10008935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snapeslittleblackbuttons/pseuds/snapeslittleblackbuttons
Summary: In the aftermath of the Battle of Hogwarts, Luna shows Neville what hope really means. Written for the 2017 Platform 9 3/4 Valentine's Sweetheart One Shot Competition. WINNER: Admin's Choice. Runner Up: Best Drama. Runner Up: Best Feels.





	

It was over.

The simple words careened around his brain, expelling all other thought.

Neville chuckled at the absurdity of it: _he_ had been the one to wield the sword that killed Nagini, making the victory possible. The fact seemed as unlikely as seeing the sky through the ceiling of the Great Hall—the real sky, not the one cushioned and disguised by an ancient charm.

Yet the evidence in the form of a bloody sword was still in his hand, and stories above his head, he could see a blue expanse of sky.

Neville stumbled through what was left of the building, through the dying and wounded, through the tears of broken families, through the piles of house elf bodies. Although he was exhausted nearly beyond coherent thought—and still shaking off the numbing sting of shock—he had to find her.

He had to.

She was all that mattered now.

Glancing around the room, he found the woman he was searching for: a petite blonde, dressed in a ratty jumper and denims. She sat alone, crouching on a bit of stone rubble, her usual faraway look clouded with effort. She seemed focused on something just beyond her reach.

He struggled to settle down next to her on the debris—debris that had, only hours ago, been an imposing stone wall fashioned by some unknown hand. It had crumbled as easily as his dreams of _being hers_ had—once the Carrows came.

Surprisingly, the stone was warm.

He glanced up. The sun had risen? Merlin, how long had he been stumbling around the ruin of everything he once knew, simply trying to find her?

“Luna?”

Gods, his back hurt.

He laid the sword across his lap and took her in. She was disheveled, but unhurt.

She didn’t respond.

Neville knew what she was likely doing: replaying the memories she no longer needed to keep herself alive, the observations that had given her an edge, a warning, during the last torturous year. Perhaps she had noticed that Alecto’s left hand twitched before he cast a Cruciatus; perhaps she had counted the number of times Amycus paced before flying into a rage and whipping the nearest student bloody. Perhaps—

No matter. With effort, those memories could be purged; they need never rely on them again.

“Luna,” he repeated, finding his throat was dry.

She turned. It took her the span of a breath to recognize him.

“Neville.”

She smiled then. A dazzling, beatific smile. It had no place among the ruin spread around them.

He let the sword rest at his feet, and Luna moved toward him to place her head in his lap, closing her eyes.

And the witch he had loved for years began to hum as if she were content at last.

o0o0o

Instinctively, they left the Great Hall together and walked slowly toward the lake, perhaps because it appeared to have suffered less destruction than the walls of the school itself. Even though the threat was gone, perhaps they would feel safer there, somehow.

They moved along in companionable silence, still skittish and adjusting to the fresh air of the spring day. When Luna’s hand brushed the edge of his, he took it firmly, threading their fingers together and gripping it hard, as if to say _I’m not letting you go._

As they rounded a curve in the path, a charred piece of _something_ appeared at their feet.

Luna bent to pick it up, turning it over in her hands slowly. It was stiff with blackened, irregular edges; it was as big as two of his hands. It was roughly in the shape of a heart.

“What do you think—“

“It’s hope,” she said, letting a small smile touch her silvery blue-grey eyes.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s part of the dome they built to protect us.”

“That’s impossible. Protective enchantments like shield charms are not physical.”

She allowed the smile in her eyes to spread to her lips.

“Neville, don’t you see? If you desire something deeply enough, purely enough, hope can make it real.”

She stepped closer to him, and placed the heart-shaped remnant in his hands.

If Luna was right—and Neville suspected she was—he was holding the sum of the effort that braced them against the onslaught of an evil they should have never needed to fight.

When conceived, when birthed, this bit of hope had not been feeble or brittle. Instead, it had been strong, gritty, and stubborn. It was identical to the hope that had sustained him during the last school year; the hope that had clung fiercely to his soul in the times when doubt had found a way to claw into his chest.

And it had shown up as a symbol of love.

He took it as a sign to share the things he’d hidden in his heart.

“I wanted to tell you, but there wasn’t ever the right time,” he began.

“I know,” she said in a sing-song voice, her tone lifting his spirit for the first time in, well, longer than he dared recall.

“I wanted to, I don’t know, take you to Madam Puddifoot’s on Valentine’s day, and buy you chocolate frogs, and take you dancing, and buy you flowers, and…”

He sighed.

“But,” he said, “I never could.” All of the things he had wanted to share with her had become secondary to keeping them both alive. If there was anyone in the world that could understand, it would be her. He was sure of it.

“But you’ve done so much more than all of that, Neville.”

He had. _And she knew it._ He let that sink into his marrow.

He swallowed the last of his fear and placed the blackened shard back in her small hands.

“Will you have me now?”

“I will have you, Neville Longbottom,” she pronounced with finality.

It made him giddy. 

He glanced upward at the silvery blue sky. And smiled.

o0o0o

Having held her hand, _hope_ felt different now. Almost…unfamiliar. The woman at his side agreed to have him—have _him_ —and it had changed everything.

Hope had become something sweet, something devoid of desperation and fear, something, instead, warmed by love.

It was now the hope of _I hope you love me for the rest of my life_ rather than _I hope I don’t die today._ It was _I hope you marry me. I hope our child has your eyes._

The section of dome in Luna’s hands began to shimmer, and then it disappeared.

He supposed they no longer needed its type of hope.

o0o0o

“All those things I said—I still want to do them with you. I want to buy you chocolate and flowers and take you to dinner and—“

Eyes reminding him of the colour of the blue expanse of sky above them turned to meet his. He lost himself in them.

“I’d like that.”

He reached to brush a curl of blonde off her face, tucking it behind her ear.

And he kissed her, gently setting his lips against hers, and, impossibly, his beautiful witch kissed him back.

It was impossible as seeing the real sky through the ceiling of the Great Hall.

As impossible as discovering a charred fragment of _hope_ lying on a sidewalk, in the shape of a heart, and holding it in your hands.

As impossible as being loved by the woman in his arms.

But, Neville discovered as Luna kissed him more fully, he was _just fine_ with impossible.

 

**Author's Note:**

> All things Harry Potter belong to J. K. Rowling.


End file.
